S1W5: “Buried Alive”

© 2012 Phylicia Joannis

I grabbed my head and groaned, gingerly caressing the goose egg pulsing beneath my fingers.

“Is everyone okay?” the Congressman asked. He had a deep gash on the side of his head, and his shirt was torn. The young woman and the injured young man looked disheveled, but okay, despite the bone protruding from the man’s leg. The elderly woman was no worse for wear, either.

Someone screamed and I turned.

The elderly woman placed her hands to her lips and whispered, “Oh, my Lord.”

I gasped when I saw what had startled everyone. One of the Climber’s followers was laying, face up, on the floor. His head was turned to the side, and his eyes were wide open, but the blood pooling behind his head was growing wider by the second. There was no denying the truth.

He was dead.

I turned away as tears streamed down my face. Tears gave way to sobs and eventually a wave of hysterical shrieks. I felt a firm hand on my shoulder, followed by a gentle voice.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the Congressman tried to console me.

I shook my head. “No, it’s not okay! That man was alive just minutes ago and now he’s…he’s.”

“I know,” he spoke quietly. “Listen, I need you to keep it together. We need level heads if we’re going to get out of here.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “How are we going to get out of here?” I asked. “The train is upside down for God’s sake!”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!” the elderly woman chided me as she made her way towards us.

I pursed my lips in protest, but said nothing.

I watched as she climbed over the debris towards the young man’s lifeless body. She had a handkerchief in her hand and with it she carefully wrapped his head.

“What are you doing that for?” I asked. “He’s dead.”

“We have to carry him out of here somehow,” the old woman replied. “And his open eyes will only frighten you.”

I shook my head. “I’m not touching him.”

The old woman sighed and turned her attention to the Congressman. “Do you think you can pry the doors open?”

He nodded and released his hold from me. My arm went cold from the absence of his warm touch, and I hoped he would come back soon.

The Congressman observed the automatic doors, placing his weathered hands on the rubber lining on each side.

“We’ll need something to pry them open,” he spoke softly.

I watched the young woman reach into her bag.

“I have an emery board,” she offered.

The Congressman turned his head quizzically, “A what?” He stared at the long, sturdy stick in her hand and chuckled. “Is that what you girls call those nail filing things?”

He reached out for it, but a sudden cry from the far side of the train interrupted them.

“Somebody help me!” A faint voice cried out. “I’m trapped!”

The Congressman furrowed his brow and made his way towards the front of the car. He beckoned for me to follow, as well as the young woman.

When we reached the end, we found the Climber. One of the seats had dislocated from its position on the subway floor and was now crushing the man beneath it.

“Please help,” the Climber whimpered. “I can barely breathe.”

The Congressman pulled against the large porcelain seat and the Climber cried out in pain.

“It’s too heavy to pull off of him,” the Congressman sighed. “Listen young man. We’re going to pull it up as high as we can, and you need to wiggle out. Can you feel your legs?”

The Climber nodded.

“What about your arms?” the Congressman asked. “Can you feel them?”

“I can’t feel my right arm,” the Climber rasped.

“Alright.” The Congressman looked at us. “We’re going to have to pull together and hold it as high as we can for him to get himself free.”

“He’ll need help getting out,” the young woman replied. “Listen, I’m a practicing nurse and that seat may have done a lot of internal damage. As soon as we remove it he may go into shock. If he can’t get himself out in time, letting go of the seat may kill him.”

“I’ll help him,” the elderly woman came up behind us. The Congressman and the Nurse nodded in approval. The old woman knelt by the Climber and gently touched his head.

“We’ll get you out of here soon,” she whispered in assurance.

“Let’s move as quickly as we can,” the Congressman instructed. “On the count of three, I want each of you to pull as hard as you can.”

The Nurse found a spot near the front of the seat and the Congressman placed his hands on the side.

I folded my arms and pursed my lips.

The Congressman glanced at me. “You can pull alongside here,” he pointed to a space right next to him.

“I’m not helping him,” I scoffed.

“What?” the Nurse looked at me, incredulous.

“He’s the reason the train flipped over,” I defended. “He got himself into this mess, let him get himself out.”

“Are you kidding me?” the Nurse exclaimed in disgust.

“Miss, this man needs help,” the Congressman pleaded. “We can’t do this alone; we need you.”

I shook my head, holding my ground. “I said I’m not going to – “

A rumble that shook the car cut off my words. I lost my balance and tumbled backward. The rumbling stopped and I pulled myself up.

“What was that?” I cried, shaken.

“I don’t know,” the Congressman replied, “But what I do know is that if we want to get out of here, we’re going to have to work together. Now Miss, please, stop throwing around blame and help us!”

Reluctant, I placed my hands on the spot the Congressman had pointed out and nodded. “Okay.”

The Congressman grunted in approval. “Now on the count of three: One, two, three, pull!”

We all pulled. The seat was heavy and stubbornly refused to budge. The Congressman pushed up with his shoulder and the porcelain beast submitted. But only about an inch.

It was just enough to take the pressure off of the Climber’s chest, and with the help of the sweet elderly woman, he wiggled out. His breathing came in deep, raspy heaves, and it was several minutes before he could speak above a whisper.

I felt a rush of appreciation despite my initial protests. Saving this man’s life was the noblest thing I’d ever done.

While the Nurse tended to the Climber, the Congressman headed back to the doors with the emery board. It was long enough to slide between the two doors and he soon had one door pried open.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the familiar whoosh of the door sliding, and I saw the Congressman smile.

Then he frowned.

I watched him stare grimly at the opening. He reached out beyond the door, pulling back a handful of something black and sooty. His groan confirmed my suspicions.

The tunnel walls had collapsed.